


lonely like me

by mcscouty



Series: you & me & we [1]
Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Cat adoption, Character Study, Coda, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Movie Spoilers, Other, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16277189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcscouty/pseuds/mcscouty
Summary: eddie adjusts and adopts a cat, venom finds him again.For all intents and purposes Eddie should feel fine. He may live in the same shitty apartment but he has a steady income, plenty of food and beer in the fridge, and he genuinely enjoys his work. Even the sleazy conspiracy newspaper gig that lets him make up stories about dinosaurs living in the sewers is enjoyable… in a way.It was all he thought he wanted when he had adjusted to life without Anne. It should be more than enough; but he still wakes up— Venom’s voice in his head, faint and weak, calling his name. He feels like he’s at a standstill in a way he hasn’t felt in years.So he does what he does best— goes through the motions.





	lonely like me

**Author's Note:**

> srry ahead of time i haven't written an actual fic in about a year? so.
> 
> title taken from [broken](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqiuqX-AMsA) by lovelytheband which heavily inspired the fic

Eddie likes to think he adjusts to not having Venom again. It’s quieter, calmer. He feels every inch of his body and swears he feels where his other repaired his atrophied heart— each beat feels different somehow. He adjusts. It was only a handful of days, a drop in the ocean— where Venom probably is right now if all of him didn’t burn up— and. He adjusts. Dan recommends him to a physician and he promises he’ll go while Anne watches him her expression half pity and half “I’ll _drag_ your stubborn ass there, Brock, don’t try me,” as Eddie smiles and promises to go.

But, he adjusts. He moves on— goes home and cleans up what’s left of his trashed apartment. Half of his broken furniture was taken by the Life Foundation. The only thought he has seeing the place— empty, cleaner than he’s seen in it in months— is that he spent a whole seventy bucks on that couch Drake’s goons broke.

He orders take-out, listens to the emptiness of everything, and wonders if maybe the new door they put up helped to increase the value of his place.

It’s okay. He’s adjusting.

 

* * *

 

He gets some job offers. Most are legitimate but he knows at least three of them are for papers that just peddle conspiracy theories. He takes a legitimate job, one at one of the sleazy papers under a pseudonym— he’ll need a bigger food budget for.

Well. Extra cash never hurt anyone.

 

* * *

 

Eddie wakes up— mouth already half formed around a “v,” and stops. He clenches his fists in the sheets and listens. There’s still the ever present hum of life outside, the faint hissing of cats fighting in the alley. It’s too quiet. Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, drags a pillow with him to sit on the lumpy couch he got on Craigslist. He flips on the television, leaves it on an infomercial for a miracle blender, and tries not to focus on the way it almost hurts to breathe.

 

* * *

 

He dreams about the water— cold, unwelcoming— and he _sinks_ before letting the tide carry him. Everything hurts. But he’s safe, his other— he saved him—

Eddie wakes up in a cold sweat.

Another quiet night, quiet room— he tells himself he just needs time. He’s been this bone-achingly lonely before. But. At the same time. Even Anne leaving didn’t feel like a piece of him had been ripped out— left a hollow that he felt everywhere, that he couldn’t stop poking at hoping against hope someone will reach back.

He doesn’t fall back asleep.

 

* * *

 

Every time he’s walking home he feels like someone’s whispering his name just behind him. Whether it be from work, Mrs. Chen’s, or ducking away as Anne tries to talk him into going to therapy, going to the doctor’s going to someone— he can hear it. It’s always faint, like he’s listening through a thick pane of glass—

(He thinks of flashing lights, of the darkness of the lab, the low lights, Maria standing there calling him.) 

He stops, looks over his shoulder, a group of rats scatter. He breathes in, slow, wishes he had someone watching his back and keeps walking.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up again, Venom’s voice ringing in his ears, and for a second he thinks— he hopes. But he wakes up alone, his mind numb and buzzing. The beer bottles on his coffee table rattle a little when he sets his feet on the ground and the room swims. On the television a rerun of Law and Order starts, the opening tones loud and heavy in the stillness of the apartment.

There’s a text from Anne on his phone: 

_You sure you’re okay?_

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t want to worry Anne— or Dan for that matter— but the thing is. He doesn’t really know what to tell her anymore. For all intents and purposes Eddie should feel fine. He may live in the same shitty apartment but he has a steady income, plenty of food and beer in the fridge, and he genuinely enjoys his work. Even the sleazy conspiracy newspaper gig that lets him make up stories about dinosaurs living in the sewers is enjoyable… in a way. 

It was all he thought he wanted when he had adjusted to life without Anne. It should be more than enough; but he still wakes up— Venom’s voice in his head, faint and weak, calling his name. And his apartment still feels silent as a grave no matter how loud he turns the television up or how loud his neighbors are. He feels like he’s at a standstill in a way he hasn’t felt in _years_.

So he does what he does best— goes through the motions. He works, he goes to Mrs. Chen’s, he sees Annie sometimes when she’s really worried and skirts around seeing a therapist. But he keeps waking up in the middle of the night, something in his gut pulling him _out_.

 

* * *

 

He wishes he had had more downtime with Venom— that maybe they hadn’t had to go on what felt like an adrenaline-fueled buddy cop comedy without the comedy. He’d ended up liking the big guy in the end there— had gotten won over by that single-minded determination to keep Eddie alive and understand why Eddie even wanted to bother with a planet and city that seemed to hate him. 

He hadn’t thought, at the time— watching the symbiote burn himself to save Eddie— he’d had time to grow fond of Venom.

But here he is, Venom’s voice still whispery soft in his head and that gnawing feeling you get when you forget something filling every second of his day.

 

* * *

 

Eddie ends up feeding some of the stray cats that live in the alley just behind his apartment building. It feels less like some actual attempt to be a good samaritan or break out of his depressing routine and more like he’s looking for something. He doesn’t know what— who— he’s looking for. It’s that gut feeling, that he can only describe in relation to that time he went to a high school reunion and ended up seeing the guy he’d held a torch for for three years. Eddie can’t remember his name now but he remembers how he’d locked eyes with him across the room and recognized the eyes. It’s a bit like that— a pull straight from the pit of your stomach, and a trip of your heart.

The cats seem to hate him, look at him like they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop when he sets the food down; but that’s okay, the dishes are always empty when he comes back.

 

* * *

 

Of course, he gets that feeling— that bone-deep, gut-wrenching familiarity— when the ugliest cat he’s ever see shows up to one of the feeding sessions. He reminds Eddie a bit of Belvedere, if Belvedere had what looks like mange and a torn up ear. He sets out the usual dish of cat food and goes to pick up the ugly cat— mange or not.

Eddie can tell the second his hand connects, he’s right. It’s him.

His mind stays quiet, but the cat doesn’t try to fight him in the way the other strays would.

Eddie goes home— leaves out a plate of raw hamburger, googles if cats really can get mange, and ends up falling asleep with a Simpsons marathon playing.

In the morning he wakes up to an angry cat peeing on his Craigslist couch and a puddle of shivering black goo on an empty plate.

It’s a start.

 

* * *

 

It takes a few tries for Venom to merge with him again. He’s weak still— and Eddie feels his heart ache in sympathy— and each time he holds out his hand he can see Venom _trying_ . Eddie can feel the longing that hits marrow deep, and it _hurts_. 

“Take your time,” he says quietly, fingers stroking gently along Venom’s shifting form. He can almost hear a whisper of his name.

The cat watches them quietly from the couch Eddie’s going to have to throw out or sucker someone into buying.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that— him with his hands cradling Venom, more protective of anything— _anyone_ than he’s ever been. But eventually— slowly— Venom comes back to him. He feels that bone-deep longing again, the icy cold of the bay chilling the edges of his burned skin, the horrible realization of how quiet it was.

Venom feels small.

Eddie’s cheeks are wet.

Hunger sets in once the wash of cold and loneliness pass. “God,” Eddie says softly, hand over his chest, he swears he feels a short stutter-stop. Venom hums, quiet, in his mind. “It’s good to see you again.”

Venom hums again— tired, comforted, still afraid but easing into that wonderful familiarity. _Eddie_ , he says, slow, soft— reverent. _Eddie_ —

“Yeah,” Eddie says back, mirroring the softness. He feels warm. “It’s okay. I got you.”

 

* * *

 

He ends up keeping the cat— or, as well as anyone can keep a stray cat. He leaves a bowl of food out for it, even wrestles the cat into a carrier and takes it to get an opinion on if it has mange and learns the cat doesn’t even have mange he’s just _that ugly_ and been in that many fights.

“Sound like anyone to you,” he grumbles at Venom when he feels a faint ripple of amusement. 

And, really, his heart sinks a bit when Venom doesn’t even stir much beyond that at the insult.

But life goes on and Eddie adapts.

He uses the part of his paycheck from his new job that doesn’t go to necessities on twice the amount of food to try and satiate the ravenous hunger Venom has while recovering and on cat food and an optimistic collar. Venom recovers slow— maybe not even steady. Some days he’ll respond to Eddie’s half-minded comments with flashes of thought— almost a word—, others he’ll manifest as a phantom emotion that Eddie knows isn’t his.

The cat comes back for meals to Eddie’s amusement and Venom’s chagrin— doesn’t stick around for the attempt on a collar, but does linger close by when Eddie leans out the window to smoke.

“So, you ever gonna talk again?”

Venom ripples something hopeful but doesn’t try to attempt words. Eddie’s stomach growls.

Eddie hmms and stubs his cigarette out in the slightly malformed ashtray he found at the secondhand. He starts reaching for another when he pauses. He looks at his hands before pressing one to his chest— Venom stirs lazily, hungry but content at the slowness of the evening, of the closeness that just being back with Eddie provides. Eddie feels his throat catch and, without really deciding to, ruins the moment by choking out, “I thought you were dead, you know.”

 _Eddie_ …

So far it seems like the only word Venom wants to— or maybe the only one he can— say. That warms Eddie a little— makes him feel important in a bit of a fucked up way. He’s pulls out his phone, starts thumbing through the restaurant list for something to do— something to at least occupy his hands.

Burgers seem to be a good compromise right now. He doesn’t really have enough to get the steak they’re both craving; but he thinks it’ll do. There’s still tater tots in the freezer.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says quietly as he’s typing “rare” in special instructions. Venom hums in confusion. “I didn’t look for you and— I. I’m _sorry_.”

At first, there’s a torrent of hurt— confusion, why _wouldn’t_ Eddie look for him. They weren’t whole if they weren’t _together—_ and.

There’s a rush of acceptance he doesn’t expect.

He jerks when a small tendril curls along his neck— weak, thinner than he’s ever felt. He’s held onto the thought of Venom of being this huge being, a hulking monster that made Eddie a passenger in his own body. It feels wrong for him to be so small, to touch so gently.

The tendril touches his pulse, tenderly, such a feather soft feeling that Eddie wonders if he’s imagining it. _Eddie_ , Venom rumbles softly, consolingly almost. He can feel the forgiveness, the sudden understanding.

He wonders if Venom saw him… adjusting.

“I missed you,” Eddie says, the words raw and fuller than he expects them to be; and Venom doesn’t say it back but Eddie can feel that quiet desperation. There’s the relief of being together again echoed back to him. He reaches up, touches the tendril at his pulse and smiles a little when Venom stays there, leans into the touch before bleeding back into him.

He orders another three burgers— to be safe—, refills the cat’s dishes, and spends the rest of the evening with Grey’s Anatomy filling the comfortable quiet as Venom hums at the back of his mind.

 

* * *

 

The first word Venom says besides Eddie’s name is “chocolate.” It’s not really surprising, but Eddie— who’s been trying to find a lead on one of his articles since five in the morning and is starting to feel more cranky than he has lately— feels a laugh startled out of him at the frank, sudden demand. 

“Feeling better?” he asks, voice warm.

 _Chocolate_ , Venom repeats a bit of force coming into his voice.

Eddie grins. “Alright,” he says, “we can do that.”

The cat meows loudly from the window sill and Venom hums, _Cat food_.

“So are we going to start getting actual sentences?” Eddie teases. He can feel his elation echoing back from Venom. It hasn’t felt as lonely in his apartment now; Venom, even when not speaking, has a presence. He’s warmth at the back of Eddie’s mind, a slow steady thrum in his veins when doing the most mundane things, a burst of amusement when Eddie bangs his knee against the underside of his desk. But, still, it’s nice to hear Venom’s voice again— almost as demanding and entitled as when they first met— but a little softer around the edges, fonder.

 _Maybe_ , Venom finally says after a pause.

Eddie snorts. “You can’t even give me a solid answer on if you’re gonna talk?”

Venom rumbles— amused and exasperated and settles again at the back of Eddie’s mind, hibernating as far as Eddie can tell. Eddie goes out and buys a passable cut of steak and five large bars of chocolate while Venom is doing the symbiote equivalent of sleeping— it’s a bit more than he can afford considering he and Venom burned through their food budget last week but he figures a surprise is in order.

Of course Venom wakes up— with a small, sleepy noise that makes Eddie’s heart stutter-stop— when he’s in line considering a cat toy.

 _Spoiling it_ , is the only thing Venom says and Eddie has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting.

 

* * *

 

Venom wakes him up in the middle of the night sometimes— a harsh, sudden pull at the back of his mind and Eddie is sitting up, dizzy, at the suddenness and feeling water in his lungs. _Sorry_ , Venom whispers, voice hazy. Eddie puts a palm over his chest, feels his heartbeat start to steady as Venom calms down— he can feel the symbiote take stock of Eddie’s pulse, his breathing, the slow way his lips part when he exhales heavy. 

Eddie pauses.

“Venom?”

The symbiote goes still.

Eddie breathes in, licks his lips— becomes too aware of how focused Venom is on his tongue— and closes his eyes. “How can I help?”

Venom shudders— like he’s sighed in relief— and, oh, what a strange relationship this is. They both know what they want to talk about— what they want from each other. Yet.

 _Netflix_ , Venom rumbles. 

Eddie rolls his eyes but grins. “House, Grey’s Anatomy— or are we going to branch out?”

Venom pauses and Eddie does too, is unable to decipher the sudden stillness. _You choose_ , Venom says slowly.

“What.”

 _You know what I said, idiot_.

Eddie huffs. “Well, I guess we’ll watch Riverdale.”

 _ **Eddie**._   _No_.

 

* * *

 

They come to an agreement about body puppeting. Venom, after sitting dormant at the back of Eddie’s mind, unable to do much more than make Eddie’s fingers twitch, understands now why Eddie hates it— though, of course since he realizes he’s a truly fucked individual, a part of him thrills at the idea of Venom taking the reins during mundane days.

 _We will ask_ , Venom promises, voice low and private even though they’re alone. He seems to be pointedly ignoring the way Eddie’s mind branches off and Eddie nods a little dumbly.

 _Eddie_.

“Yeah, I heard ya buddy.”

Venom huffs, Eddie sighs. “Sorry, but yea. Thank you, man— but. Let’s be honest here are you even strong enough to take over?”

 _Of_ course _I am_ , Venom snarls, less angry and more embarrassed. He lingers for a moment, heavy at the front of Eddie’s mind, trying to look for a response but pointedly not attempting to make Eddie move. And, with a final huff, Venom settles back into the back of his mind— sulking.

 _I am not sulking_.

Eddie snorts, “Whatever you say,” and goes back to the draft he’s been pretending to work on for most of the evening. It’s comfortable— even with Venom quietly seething at the back of his mind, still radiating embarrassment despite his attempt to stifle it, and Eddie can’t quite stop the rush of fondness he feels. It seems to give Venom pause before the feeling echoes back.

“You’re going soft,” Eddie says without thinking. Venom stays quiet, the embarrassment rushes back tenfold and Eddie grins. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Venom considers his words carefully. _You prefer us this way_ , he finally says.

“It’s healthier, y’know— gotta communicate.”

 _We are always communicating, Eddie_ , Venom sounds exasperated.

That gives Eddie pause. He’s not sure if he ever considered the back and forth as communication— the shared thoughts, the faint feelings he’ll get from Venom before he indulges him… it just seemed like a part of life now. He sees Venom’s point. Venom rumbles. _You keep_ saying _you’re an intelligent human but…_

“ _Hey_. It’s just. It’s different y’know?” He rubs absently at his chest, feels Venom stir closer to the surface of his skin— wanting the contact but also content to stay where he is. “We’re actually figuring shit out now is my point. We weren’t before.”

Venom hums an agreement. _When you put it that way you almost sound intelligent_.

“Dick.”

The cat meows from the fire escape and Venom shifts lazily under Eddie’s skin again. _Feed it_.

“Why don’t _you_ feed it?” Eddie pauses, feels Venom’s irritation rising— he seems almost panicked. Weird. “If you can that is.”

Venom growls. _Fine_.

It’s been about a month since Venom found him again. He expects the symbiote to be able to easily take over— maybe not like when they first met, where Venom was willful, able to bend Eddie so far he thought he’d break— but it’s tentative. He can feel Venom slowly working his way to Eddie’s hands and legs, clenching fingers and pressing the soles of his feet flat to the ground. It feels _exhausting_ and Eddie is struck again with the realization— cold, like the strike of the water when they both fell, separated— Venom almost _died_.

Embarrassment floods their bond again for a moment before Venom suppresses it.

They clench their fingers into fists and Eddie trembles, sweating and suddenly out of breath.

“Oh,” he breathes out eloquently and Venom withdraws, _immediately_ , leaving only a wake of icy cold dread, shame, and _silence_ . “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “Hey— come back, _please_. I’m sorry.”

Venom comes back, slow, and Eddie can feel, gut deep, that it’s from exhaustion but guilt still wells up in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Not your fault, Venom sounds a little faint, but not angry. He’s embarrassed, afraid— terrified, actually, that Eddie’s going to leave now because Venom’s so _weak_. “No— god, no.”

He puts a hand on his chest and feels that weak tendril at his neck— pressed against his pulse again. “I thought you were feeling better.”

 _I am_ , Venom sounds defensive again and Eddie reaches up, strokes his index finger along Venom’s tendril. _You’ve played a lovely nurse, Eddie_ , Venom teases. Eddie ignores the way his breath tries to catch at that. _I have never been that close to death before— and. My previous host was… not ideal_.

Venom goes quiet. He’s hiding something.

“And…? Or. You don’t gotta tell me if you don’t wanna, man. It’s—”

 _I didn’t want to kill it_.

Eddie blinks.

“So. You made yourself weaker to keep the cat, that now hates us, alive.”

 _…Yes_.

Eddie smiles. “I’m proud of you, buddy."

And Venom withdraws again— not fully— but Eddie can feel the pleased embarrassment coming from him. He keeps smiling— because of course he does—, puts on the news, and gets up on slightly shaky legs to go get the cat’s food dish. Venom stays quiet, but Eddie can feel the slow curl of contentment feeding off his own.

It’s good. This feels right— like home.

**Author's Note:**

> so. this started out w/ me projecting onto eddie irt my depression but it ended up being a whole Thing; also srry for blue-ballin u i meant for this to be more explicitly shippy but. the characters didn't cooperate.
> 
> and come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mcscouty_)/[tumblr](https://pocketsoraka.tumblr.com) if u want! i'm venom 24/7 rn


End file.
